making my own road out of gravel and some wine
by tonberrys-and-kuchikopi
Summary: [July-September 1976] Sirius has to deal with the consequences of running away from home and trying to find his new normal, while trying to reconcile his feelings on all of it unsuccessfully. Renascentia-verse.


Note: This one-shot is written by "kuchikopi" only.

Title song is from "Black Sheep" by Gin Wigmore.

* * *

It was in the morning that the true consequences of his actions had him. He'd actually done it. He'd left. Bolted. Fucked off. However you looked at it, he was out.

This wouldn't be the first time Sirius had acted gut first, think later nor would it be the last, but it felt bigger than everything else. Being sorted had been different. He couldn't have changed that. This was an active choice he'd made to leave home and it's bullshit and try to figure everything out by himself. It had to be better than the alternative. There was damn all worse than the idea of never seeing his friends again or ending up in 12 Grimmauld Place for the rest of his life. Besides, he wasn't by himself, not really.

Knackered and sweat-drenched, he'd finally activated a brain cell or two and called for the Knight bus. His first port of call should have been to go back to Grimmauld Place and get anything he wanted, to go and get his motorbike before something happened to it but his adrenaline had run itself out and he found he was just bone tired. He'd said Godric's Hollow without thinking much of the fact it had to be close to midnight and the Potters would probably be asleep.

Except when he got off the bus, there was James half hanging out the window like he did it every day.

He might have started to do it everyday. James was the kind of person that if he was a century older, people might refer to him as eccentric. It wasn't something everyone saw about him, sometimes it was difficult to look past the intelligence, the sportsman, the prankster and see a weird, if wonderful person under the layers of roles.

"I thought you were off getting intimately acquainted with sheep," James called down.

He was also a bit of a tosser. It was one of the things Sirius liked best about him.

Before he could respond, James leaned back in and yelled, "No, it's Sirius!"

Sirius shook his head for a moment as he could hear the indistinct sounds of someone else talking.

"I dunno why," He reappeared out the window, "Alright, Sirius?"

Sirius tried to imagine his own parents and himself having a conversation by yelling across the house in the middle of the night and stifled a snort. "Alright, James."

"Hang on, mate," Once again, James' head disappeared from it's precarious spot. "What? I'm not going to wake the whole neighbourhood!" Another set of mumbles was followed by "I'm not even being that loud!"

"Yes, you are," Sirius said.

James poked his head back out, "Traitor." He still waved him on to the door, though. "You coming in or what?"

* * *

 _Reg,_

 _I'll explain more when I see you but I had to go_

 _Sorry I left you with them_

 _Look, I know I said I'd sort it but_

* * *

"So you're definitely not going back," James asked the next morning.

It managed to sound both like a question and a statement, punctuated by extraneous eyebrow movement that meant he probably didn't believe him. Sirius understood why. It wasn't the first time he'd said he'd had enough, but he'd always cooled down in a couple of days and dealt with the consequences. This was different. He understood the consequences better than ever and he wasn't willing to do deal with them anymore. This was the end of it all.

"Nah," He said.

"What about your stuff?" James asked.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugged,realising he didn't even have his uniform. Why would he? Hootie had shown up in the early hours in search of bacon which Mrs. Potter seemed happy to provide and making herself a friend for life.

"What about your bike?"

"It's parked and they're in Wales," Sirius shrugged. "I can go and get it when I figure out where I'm going."

"There's parking round here," James said, as his mother came back into their living room and wordless removed the cup from his hand. "Hey!"

"Is good for horses," Mrs Potter finished, heading through to their kitchen. "You're not supposed to drink coffee, you know what it does to you."

"I'm nearly seventeen!" James protested.

"You're sixteen," His mum reminded him. "Sirius is nearly seventeen."

Watching James scowl because he was being reminded that Sirius was older than him was always fun, but it always added something to it when it was his own mother because it always felt as if she knew it annoyed him and was doing it for a bit of a wind up.

"I've had it loads of times at Hogsmeade and it's been fine," He pouted.

That was patently untrue. Whether he was simply sensitive to caffeine or he had five cups without stopping, James always tended to be ready to bounce into the next dimension when he'd had coffee. Whiskey, beer, even smuggled wine and he could be fine and fake his way to some sobriety but caffeine did him in.

In a mirror of James poking his head through the window the night before, Mrs Potter twisted around the doorway and looked at them. "Have you been letting him have coffee?" She asked Sirius.

Sirius shrugged in an exaggerated manner, "I can't watch him every minute of every day."

Mrs Potter harrumphed and disappeared back through the doorway.

"I meant it about the bike," James said, jumping right back in. "Might get a bit muddy but what kind of charms expert is sh— terrible at cleaning charms?"

"People with house elves," Sirius said, "Even barmy ones."

"Mum made me clean all the dishes by hand once," James commiserated. "It was terrible."

He could hear Mrs. Potter laughing in the other room, confirming she was listening in. He found it bothered him less than he thought. "He lay on the floor and declared himself dead!"

"It took so long!" James said.

"What if that's how Evans likes it?" Sirius asked, cheekily.

James gave him a look of abject horror, which only increased when a call from the next room asked who Evans was. James began waving his arms around like a windmill having a fit and it ended up with Sirius struggling to breathe from laughing and James conveniently thinking he heard his Dad in the garden asking the two of them to give him a hand.

* * *

 _Regulus,_

 _I'm not coming back. You might have figured it out by now, or they'll have said something, but I'm not. I can't._

 _I can't take another_

 _I'm sorry I_

 _We'll talk at school, oka_

* * *

They ended up helping in the garden anyway, but he couldn't complain. It was almost fun running around and trying to figure out where the gnomes had buried in. James had whispered to him at one point that he'd probably prefer to be doing this on four legs instead of two and he wasn't wrong. The idea was appealing. He just didn't want to spill their secret, even to the Potters.

It was when he was washing up for dinner that Mrs Potter tapped him on the shoulder. She was a small woman, another difference to his own but no less formidable sounding. Just different.

"You know what he meant, don't you?" She sounded serious, no pun intended.

"James?" Sirius said."Rarely."

"About the bike," She sounded firmer this time, which made him turn around from the sink to face her. "He's trying to ask you to stay without doing it."

"I don't want to put you out," He said, uncomfortably. "I left of my own accord. I should figure it out."

"You lot are here half the summer anyway," Mrs Potter said, dismissively. "Trying to make it on your own doesn't mean not accepting help from the people who care enough to offer it. Besides, _audentes Fortuna adiuvat_."

It took him a minute. "Fortune favours the brave?"

":Loosely," She waved him off. "Do dry your hands, dear, you're dripping all over the floor. Not on your-" She added hastily, as Sirius wiped his hands on his trousers. "Hooligans, all of you. Go set the table or we'll never be ready."

* * *

 _It feels strange to have a home and feel more at home somewhere else. If anything, it's just confirming to me that I don't belong there where you can play a part with precision even if you don't like it. That's not me. I think you know that's not me. You'd be better at the heir stuff than I, if you could find your backbone long enough to_

* * *

"Do you think there'll be trouble?" Mr Potter asked him the following morning, as he went downstairs to join James outside. He was a pragmatic sort of man, Mr. Potter, though James had long told tales of his exploits in his youth and the fights he used to get into. It was hard to imagine sometimes, but at others, he could almost see it in his features. Ghost lines, history. There was something to him that seemed like James might have gotten some of his fire there.

Sirius stopped (he had a manner or two, despite what his mother said), and shook his head, "With my parents?"

"Aye," He said, tipping his head.

"No," Sirius said, feeling pretty sure it was true. There were many possible repercussions to his actions, but he could take a guess from the way Andromeda had been treated. They don't chase after people. Conform or have your entire existence swept away under a carpet of denial. "I've done them a favour."

He looked at Sirius, clearly surprised. "Oh?"

"A runaway traitor gossip lasts a lot less than a lifelong embarrassment of it."It saved them the trouble of wanting to do it, of eventually doing it, to get it over with now. He was never going to meet the terms and conditions set out before him. He'd lingered too long as it was.

"Hmm," Mr Potter said, in that annoying way older people tended to do when they knew something or thought they knew something and were just deeming it not necessary to tell you. Dumbledore, for all his great achievements, was absolutely the master of this. "You've a younger sibling, don't you?"

Sirius took a breath in, and then out. "What time is it?" He asked.

Mr Potter looked at him for a moment, then looked at pocket watch. "A little after ten."

That meant they'd probably known for at least a day. Sirius smiled, bitter and sharp. "Then no, I don't imagine I do anymore."

* * *

 _It's not that I wanted this exactly. It wasn't that I_

 _I thought I could_

 _How could I have explained in a way you would have understood it? I'm,not sure there is a way for you to. You can't choose your family or your blood, no matter what that stupid tapestry says It's not home for me and it is for you. Even if I'd asked, you would never It's never been my side for you, it was always theirs even if you disagreed because you are shit scared of what will happen if you disagree. That you'll get disowned. I refuse to be afraid of it. Family, home, these are not things you should have to agree to on condition of compliance and strict adherence to others desires. It shouldn't be something that makes you feel frigh_

 _It was never about you_

* * *

It disturbed him, how much Andromeda looked like an adult. James was having a fantastic time trying to get her toddler to turn her features into a lion, and Andromeda was having tea with Mrs. Potter as if the two of them were old friends. He wasn't sure they'd even met before. It was only now he was starting to realise how insular the world of the House of Black could be. It had felt it, but the reality was startling.

"Can you stop trying to influence her house? She has eight years to go." Andromeda chided, but it was a good-natured tone.

"Just trying to make sure she gets in the right house," James said, as he tried to do a roaring impression and Dora screamed with laughter. Another person he had only seen in pictures. He still couldn't believe she was a _Mum._

"Whatever house she ends up in will be the right house for her," Andromeda said. "That includes Slytherin, no matter how many Gryffindors I'm surrounded with."

"You know, I did date a boy in Slytherin in my fifth year," Mrs Potter nodded.

"Was that before or after you tried to do the underwear removal spell in the Great Hall?" James said, flashing a knowing smile at his mother.

"After," Mrs. Potter confirmed unmoved by the challenge. "Who buys without looking?"

James made a gagging noise, causing another fit of giggles in Andromeda's little girl and her to lose her cat eyes.

"Do you know, I think your Grandfather was there for that," Mrs. Potter mused.

Sirius, having never considered his grandparents underwear, gave her a horrified look and she seemed satisfied with it. It was sometimes so easy to see where James got it from. With a stab of relief, he realised Andromeda was also making the same face. He was relieved for her; there was still some people who knew the insanity of their family who could commiserate about it.

Andromeda stopped him before she left, "Have you heard anything?"

"No," Sirius said. "Why would I? I'm well shot."

"It's okay to miss some of the good things," Andromeda said, lifting her hair and placing it over her coat gracefully. "I still miss my sisters sometimes." The look on his face must have given away what he was thinking. "Yes, even Bella."

"It's not the same," Sirius protested.

"Oh?"

"For one, he's not a Death Eater," Sirius pointed out, watching as Andromeda steeled herself. He wondered if he kept the same look before an anticipated an argument. "For another, I don't think he's going to hex me. He'll just ignore me for the rest of the time."

In truth, he'd have preferred the hex. His brother had never been much of a duelist.

* * *

 _I knew I missed Andromeda but I never much thought about if she missed us. Or her sisters._

 _Leaving is hard, even if it's the right thing to do. I didn't want you to_

 _Change is exciting. It's never felt like something to be worried ab_

 _Maybe I'll miss y_

 _I mis_

 _I'll see you at sch_

* * *

The truth of it was that Sirius had spent the last forty-eight hours trying to write to his younger brother to explain it, but everything sounded wrong. He had little reason to believe him, not with his parents right there to contradict everything and he wasn't there to hold his own. He wasn't sure how many letters he'd started, but they all ended up crossed out and binned. It wasn't that he thought this would be easier in person, it would have been a thousand times harder in person and it would have been easier to be talked out of it.

He didn't want to be talked out of it, not this time.

Believing something when it was easy to do was great. Believing something when it got hard was a test of character. He didn't want to see himself fail it.

He'd managed other letters, one to Remus who'd asked if he was alright (hunky dory, thank you), Peter who'd asked if he was sure (Fuck yes), Andromeda who'd affectionately welcomed him to the outcast family club and then, he'd been surprised to see, his Hogwarts owl was sent to James' place already.

But this one letter was driving him to distraction.

Every single time, every attempt, it all went to the bin (except one, which had burnt, because he hadn't been comfortable at all with it) and time kept passing. He couldn't get it out. He just couldn't. No words seemed like he'd be able to explain it in a way Regulus might even begin to understand . He was their son, first and foremost and his brother second. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't want to. He'd too fucking stubborn and convinced he's in the right that if he does everything like a puppet on a string that it'll somehow earn him their love. You have to have a heart to love. He doesn't believe Walburga Black had one anymore, if she ever had.

Before he knew it, it was September 1st and he had no choice but to face the consequences of his decisions. He'd have to face the magical world having shifted from under him and figure out how any of this was going to work.

With a look to the other three boys in the compartment, he was glad that at least he didn't have to do it alone.


End file.
